Fatal Impact
by TheInnerBeing
Summary: My first story... I wrote this not meaning it to have anything to do with Alex Rider, but i suppose this is the way it came out. Although the names are different, I think you can see the similarities. Hope you enjoy...


Ben Grodzinski 2B

Fatal Impact

James had never thought his uncle to be a very ambitious man. He knew that he was a journalist who was always writing about animals and complaining about how their habitats were slowly being destroyed but that he never really got anything done. So when David told him that they were going on an excursion to the Amazon rainforest, he was very surprised. He was, of course, also ecstatic. He had always wanted to be right up-close with the animals, feel the humidity, and see the luscious greenery and growth.

A logging company, , was becoming increasingly clever in its methods, and wherever it went it left a powerful trail of destruction and many animals homeless. David was going to write an article about their malicious activity, but didn't want them to come and cover up or stop him, so it was all going to be very secret, he told James. He mustn't tell any of his friends or anyone about it.

Weeks past, and James had almost started to forget about the trip, when his uncle announced that they were going to go that Sunday, and that he should start packing. David was a qualified pilot, and they had a small plane, so were flying out by themselves. Sunday was all a rush, and soon they were taking off from a nearby airstrip that they had been allowed to use. Although they did not know it yet, this journey would be one that they would never forget.

Air rushing past. Curve. They straightened out again. James could see the jungle below them, but they needed to go past it to get to the runway and hotel at which they were staying. Suddenly, a jerk. The plane started to curve downwards, doing a nosedive. "What's happening?" shouted James over the roar of the engines. "The left engine's cut out!" replied David, struggling to make his voice heard. Any normal boy would be terrified, crying and screaming for his mother. Only one thing was going through his mind. Was this what it was like, for his mother and father when they had been killed in a plane crash? What had they been thinking, when the Boeing 747 to Detroit had crashed in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean? And had they been thinking of him? 1000 feet now. 700. 500. 300. James closed his eyes. So this is how it would end. All at once, there was an almighty squeal, and the left engine spluttered back into life. Yes! The Plane was pulling up! Then, Bang. Crunch. Then nothing.

When he regained consciousness, James slowly realised what must have happened. The engine had been cooled by the cold air rushing through it, and had started up again. However, by this time they must have been too low, and crashed into the upper canopy of the trees. He was in the smouldering fuselage of the plane. Luckily, he had been sitting in the back of the plane and had escaped with a few cuts and a bruise on his head where he must have hit the seat in front of him. The front had taken most of the impact. His uncle was not so lucky. There was a deep inch-long gash running down his forehead with blood pouring out. James could see that it was trying to clot and form a scab like normal but there was just too much blood. It had to be stopped now. He grabbed the Medi-Kit in the glove compartment of the plane and took out a bandage. Then he quickly wrapped it around his head. His own cut was small and could be dealt with later.

David was starting to go pale. He started to mutter words, but they were incomprehensible. James remembered what his health and safety instructor had told him. Blood goes round and round the body. The heart pumps it round. No blood escapes from the body. Any variation of that was wrong and had to dealt with. Well, the bandage was done. James put his ear to David's chest. Dum-Dum, Dum-Dum. That was good. He was breathing. Next thing to check: Concussion or confusion. James grabbed hold of him. "David." He commanded. "What day is it?"Silence. "Erm... Sunday?" "Thank you. Please tell me the months of the year backwards." That would check if he was concussed or not. It was the standard drill. "December, November, September... No, no, October _then _September..." He trailed off. James' mind was in turmoil. "Can you walk?" James helped his uncle to his feet. He took a few steps forward, cautiously. He could walk, but James would have to support him. They would build a shelter, because James knew that in the rainforest in could turn from boiling heat to a thunderstorm in a matter of minutes. Then a fire to keep warm. And hopefully people would come looking for them, and there would be a search party. It will be all right, James told himself. But deep down, he knew that what he had said wasn't true. No-one knew about this. It was all secret. If they wanted to survive, they would have to get help themselves. But he didn't tell David that. It would crush him.

Night was coming in fast, and they needed a fire. James crept out of the shelter which he had made with a little of his uncle's help. David lay still. It is always hard to find dry wood in the rainforest because if its frequent rainstorms. The wood is always damp. However, James knew where to look. He hunted around, searching for little alcoves in the bottoms of tree trunks were dry wood could be found. Eventually he found enough for a small fire. Moss found on the ground would serve as kindling. Now for the spark. James took out the fire steel from around his neck that he carried everywhere. It was a small rod of steel and an artificial flint made out of ferrocerium which he could rub together to create an extremely high-temperature spark. This would light the fire.

He looked at David, resting on a makeshift bed made from blankets in the back of the plane and spare clothes. He looked very peaceful. James closed his eyes. Even with everything that was happening, a smile managed to creep across his face. He wasn't sure whether it was the soft cracking of the fire, the pitter-patter of the rain on the leaves which made up the roof of the shelter, or the hum of the jungle that lulled him to sleep but when he woke up he could hear chimpanzees squawking and birds chirruping. He knew what lay ahead of him. "Uncle?" he asked. "Are you awake?" For the first time he looked across at his uncle. And what he saw made him break down. David was dead.


End file.
